You sweet yellow glowing loveliness. I kiss and embrace you, eternally. I won´t leave you again. Stand by me, let me stay on your side, inflame my heart, my tender passion, look in my eyes and arouse my energy, my strength and at least, thank you so much for drying, me, a sponge-mutant. – We arrived in Galle. Down south at the coast. Oh my Buddha, Mohammed, I tell you, what a relief! First, we emptied our bags, washing, I just packed all of in a bucket, put a greedy handfull of washing powder on, water and just stepped on it, stamping grapes, mashed dirt, sweat and humidity, under a hot shower, cleaning myself and my possession, manic-relieved and so contented.
Galle was my mannequin climax so far. “Hello!” – I should stop smiling at people, they misunderstand this as an offer to talk to me, “Many tattoos, can I take picture?” A group from Bangladesh, business men, four, one by one, than by twos, and as they started a quick-tempered foursome, “Game Over, my friends. Insert coin.” They looked at me, smiled, appreciated and went off. Unsuccessful business idea from the first level. Sri Lankan, mostly teenager, “Me and the monster.” I know I put myself in chains, somersaulting, monkeystyle. I don´t care. I do not. No. Ok I am bored. In countries, where capitalism has cast its downfall, worthless values, ideals, movie stars, blockbusters, brands, lenders and fancy pants, loaded with a rolled stack of dollars, gold on their fingers, blood under their nails, nevermore dirty hands… why not me, a show of a “handsome” – pop – gangster making the difference. And the ukrainans know what I am talking about, posing with a couple, in the embracement of a typical eastern monster of a man, his hand on my plated shoulder, a freshly nested egg between the set of uncompromising by blood darkened teeth of a wolfish fox. Out of his jaw a strong pouring flavour of his last loot, schnaps. Me, the skinny stick next to flaming like a match in a second to a pile of ash. Nice guys.
Maybe I love Sri Lanka. As longer as I stay as more I understand the mentality, the humour, their smiles, their background and why I was wrong. Chatting with farmers, market sellers, fishermen and outcasted low class bums, I enjoy their beauty and loveliness, feeling like to give them a hug, at least touch them, pinch punch tip them with my sincere sympathy. Just to see them smiling, from the bottom of their heart, for a very short moment, filling me with so much peace and affection. My favorites roadbusters, ideals when it comes to take life as it is, even you have to shit in front of its gate. – I was wriggling in the nets of Galle… Sri Lankan mosquito gangs are chasing me in the early morning hours on the street. I have no idea how they manage to sneak through, searching for flesh to poke their bloodlust inside. The mosquito net, not sufficiently anti, so “Let´s tap him!”. Bastards of freaks! Waking up at 5 a.m. or more apposite deciding to stand up, being horrific pissed of being sucked, feeling like a sow, involuntary farrowed, I made the best out of it and enjoyed my first sunrise in Sri Lanka, on the bol walls of the former fort in Galle, on my excursion to one of these treasure hunting moments on the road lostwards. I found myself at small fisherharbour with some eviscereting stalls roadside, beyond the walled fort, selling the fresh catch, straight from the boats. Harpoons, knives, wooden chopping blocks, buckets with dead wide open last gazes, remains of a hunt floating in blood, the seacarved faces of the workers, crows feet in wait, for chopped heads, the giblets and intestines, shredding black beaks, screeching claws, what else you need in the morning – fuck off coffee, especially when it´s nescafe. Different story. “You have cigarette?”, they keep asking me, surrounded by them, harshness in their eyes and the energetic blow of the sea shaping their pyhsical strength and tenacity. On my second morning, of three in a row, I had packages with me, as an offering, empty before I located my lighter, being blessed with their thankfulness and in particular their hospitality. I stayed. I watched, I chatted, I got undressed. Before I left, with heavy regretfullness in my farewell, falling in love with these kind of character, again the tempting invitation to join the hunt, starting at 2 a.m. In boats, don´t imagine big boats, I am talking about catamerans, with my not existing experience being at night out there, on the Indian Ocean, what a dream of a dream – and “Damn it!” I rejected, thinking twice of staying one more night, but did a reasonable decision, bringing my screwed collarbone, my ligamental strain and the next trekktense stopover Kathmandu to my mind – no risk no miss. Helping them to pull the boat on the beach was hazardous silly enough. “Come with us. No work, sit, look.” “Like a captain?” “Like guest.” But the idea not helping them made me feel more uneasy, rocking my idle tiredness and for sure jamming their working routine. Fuck off nescafe, temples, sightseeing and tours, dip into the everyday life, worth a stay, extending my day. The salty madness in their eyes I will miss, guess I found a good reason to return, to Sri Lanka.
And Jose, my loved friend, reminded me with his type of a character, unwanted for sure, but anyway, to create relationships, not to disagree moody with the efforts of men facing you, for whatever reason, giving me a hard time, being the person of interest, spoilt my curiosity. Even he sometimes is driving me crazy, asking at nearly every shop, interviewing nearly every seller, who was looking, staring at us, at me, and back at us – we must appear like a comical gay couple, “How much? – And these? – And that? – Ok, I come back. – Is this the way to [placeholer]?” Not even one corner later “Excuse me, way to [placeholder]?” Asking him why he is doing this, thinking it is rude, knowing he doesn´t want to buy anyway, and annoying, because I know the way and his map app anyway. And me and him wouldn´t even mind to get lost. “I just want to know if they are polite or telling me the truth.”, he said. Better facing them first, before being faced, leaving the bubble of the observer, functioning more rewarding in Sri Lanka. So I did accept his unaware excuse for annoying me. And we both have lots of fun.